


A Bang for A Buck (But We Were Never Good at Clichés)

by zhenger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Humor, M/M, Multi, Rating May Change, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhenger/pseuds/zhenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By 11, it wasn’t birthdays, Halloween, or Christmas James Rhodes looked forward to; it was the day he’d finally get his soulmate imprint and kick-start his journey to finding his true love. </p><p>But as the flesh began to knit and heal over, well. </p><p>Rhodey never thought he'd have to deal with something as stupid as this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Rhodey Campaign](http://rhodeycampaign.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> I do not have any personal experiences in university ROTC programs or any universities mentioned in this fic; all details mentioned are from my own research and some experiences from other people :Y If there's anything glaringly inaccurate about my portrayals, please tell me! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://thezhenger.tumblr.com/)!

The existence of fated soulmates has always been messy business.

Well... More the romantic ones.

If a friendship was cultivated and maintained well, respective names would appear on the upper shoulders. New ones and old ones could form or disappear at any age.    

But, as for romance, a name (or more) would appear on the wrist at a certain age and stay there permanently. One would then find their soulmate(s), if they hadn’t already.

It was a concept which should’ve been pretty simple.

In reality, it wasn’t that easy.

The economic and entertainment industries have capitalized and dramatized the ridiculous complexities that come with discovering ones romantic soulmate’s (or soul _mates’_ ) name etched onto your skin. There are online networks which give you a bigger chance in finding your match (Tony runs the best one in Boston on MIT’s campus). There’s porn about meeting and then banging your soulmate on the same day when they’re called to fix your toilet or deliver your pizza (Tony’s favorite, and Pepper always chides him for his terrible taste). There are books about dealing with multiple soulmate names or no names at all (Sam recommends the award-winning novel, _The List_ , where names keep appearing on a poor woman’s wrist until they completely encircle her arm).

And as for guilty pleasures? Rhodey loved his romantic soulmate soaps (and boy, _were_ they guilty pleasures). Ever since he was a kid, he watched horrible romantic comedies with his two older sisters and younger brother, and borrowed old tapes of 60s dramas from his mom.

By 11, it wasn’t birthdays, Halloween, or Christmas James Rhodes looked forward to; it was the day he’d finally get his soulmate imprint and kick-start his journey to finding his true love.

Tony always laughs. Rhodey always punches him really hard on the shoulder; exactly where their friendship mark was.         

So, Rhodey was completely prepared for every single world-ending, bizarre and/or just downright uncomfortable situation imaginable when he felt the tell-tale itching of a name bonding on his wrist while he was revising fluids and aerodynamics. He kind of felt like Cinderella. Without as many sparkles or a magical pumpkin. Uh, okay, bad metaphor.  

But as the flesh began to knit and heal over, well.

He thought he was just… seeing things. Missing something.

Rhodey never thought he’d have to deal with something as stupid as this.

 

* * *

 

Tony nearly passes out from laugher the next day when Rhodey grudgingly tells him the new name on his wrist is _James_.

Just James.

No last name, middle name, initial, anything.

Just.

James.   

“Thanks, Tones.” Rhodey grumps, swirling the milk of his sad sludge of cereal as Tony rolls off the cafeteria bench with a gleeful _thunk_ and a secondary _clackity_ of his huge glasses falling off his nose. “Totally helpful.”

What exactly was the soulmate protocol for a singular name? Marathoning all 20 seasons of _The Soulmate Saga_ and _Wrist Scribblers_ when he was 15 did not prepare him for this completely underwhelming new development at all.

“It says James! _Only James_. Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?” Tony finally gasps from the ground after 20 minutes.

“I think I would’ve noticed another name on my arm, Tony.” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. Rhodey doesn’t mention how he stripped off all his clothes in the dead of night to make sure that the other part of his name didn’t… fall off… somewhere… onto another part of his body. It made sense at the time, okay? But nope, the only full names on his skin were Tony’s, Pepper’s, and Sam’s.  

His favorite green polo shirt got dirty _for nothing_.

“And you say I’m the narcissist in our relationship, honeysuckle.” Tony says, pulling himself back into sitting and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. “Holy shit, I never knew you could get your own fucking name-”

“James is a pretty common name, you know.” Rhodey grumbles over a spoonful of whole wheat cheerios. “I’m sure this has happened to other people before.”

“Just imagine the wedding cards- Mr and Mr James!” Tony exclaims, pushing his glasses back onto his face before grabbing onto Rhodey’s arm just to confirm the name for himself. Again.

“I hate you. Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s not how wedding cards work.” Rhodey says, stuffing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “And don’t gender, man, who knows. It’s just a name. We don’t know if it’s a first name, or a last name, or a middle name-”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But baby bear, do you not _see_ how hilarious this is?” Tony says, shaking Rhodey’s own arm in front of Rhodey’s face.

“I think I gathered as much from the past couple of minutes.” Rhodey remarks drily, jerking his arm out of Tony’s grip before mournfully scrubbing at the raised white scarring of freshly imprinted flesh. “This sucks.” He says, definitely not pouting whatsoever.

“Aw, Rhodes, baby,” Tony says. “are you sure none of those- uh, those…” Tony snaps, his face screwing up into mock concentration.

“Soaps?” Rhodey says, unashamed.

“God, I love it when you say that.” Tony grins, “Yeah, those. Are you sure _none_ of them had anything about _this_ at all? No episode where someone determinately fucks everyone that has the name on their arm on your… Wrist Writers or Soul Searchers episodes or whatever?”

“Even if there was an episode like that, which there isn’t – and not everything has to involve sex, Tony - I am not whoring myself out to anyone named James.”

“Ah bup, bup, now see who’s being politically incorrect. Nothing wrong with pleasure where you can get it, ramekin.”

“Did you literally just call me ramekin?”

“Anyway, stop looking like someone stole your puppy and uh, orphaned you or whatever. You’ll find him. Or her. Or them. Or, uh, yeah.” Tony says, waving his arm vaguely. “I’ll put up your name and… er, your… name… but, not really… on SoulSnatch, okay?” Tony’s soulmate network. Arguably the worst name for a soulmate finder on the planet. “After all, if your name’s appeared on your wrist it must mean that some shmuck’s also got their own name freshly tattooed on their wrist, right? Better a name than none at all, and all that jazz, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, but, I guess. Thanks, Tony.” Rhodey says.

“Don’t worry about it. Okay, I gotta go. Don’t fret your pretty face.” Tony says, getting up from his seat to leave. “Welcome: You’re a slave to the system now!” 

“You’re just pissy because you’re an infant and don’t have your soulmate name yet!” Rhodey calls out after him, but Tony just replies with ‘ _I’m seventeen, and who says I even want one, loverboy?_ ’ and wiggles his fingers in goodbye, the Brass Rat on his hand glinting in the cafeteria light. Rhodey idly clinks his own class ring against the dining room table, before quickly finishing off the rest of his soggy cereal.

He needed another soulmate soap opera to drown his sorrows in.

 

* * *

 

“Cadets, as we have reached the Spring Semester, you all know that the Army’s ROTC Ranger ‘Challenge’ is coming up in the next few days.” Sergeant Lim says, delicately snorting at the word ‘challenge’.

Sergeant Pulaski continues. “We’ve been… cordially invited to watch our fellow cadets complete in some beautifully land-locked challenges. While we won’t exactly learn much from a bunch of children kicking around in the mud-“A tittering of laughter ripples through the cadet lineup, “-this would be a great opportunity to compare your progress with other Air Force cadets attending the competition, while politely not giggling at the army cadets eating rocks for a tactical advantage. Remember to be polite, children. It’s not nice to stare at folks, even when they’re wrong. They’re just trying their best.”

“We know we’re supposed to be promoting teamwork, and in real combat, you will plan and execute tactics in harmony and do it well.” Sergeant Lim says, smiling. “I have no doubt about that. But, in this case, while air corps soars high, army troops are stuck eating their own dirt. It’s just how it is. Dismissed. I know I can’t stop y’all, so don’t party too hard, alcohol makes your muscles atrophy. Don’t think I’m not watching you, Jones.”

After the battalion salutes and disperses, Rhodey drags himself back to the dorms for a well-deserved shower. He’s expecting Sam soon, for lunch; he needed to talk to someone about this ridiculous soulmate circumstance that wasn’t Tony. The Sergeants would probably make a joke about fraternizing with the enemy, as Sam was in Tufts University’s Air Force program, but Sam was top in his counseling classes during his time at Lesley before he transferred, so maybe this is what Rhodey needs.

Rhodey’s just finished showering and is toweling himself off when he hears his phone ping with a text message, Sam’s name appearing briefly on the screen.

> _At the front entrance. What do you wanna talk about?_ The text reads.
> 
> _It’s stupid. I’m coming down now. Emma’s sound good?_ Rhodey replies.
> 
> _Pizza’s good. btw, I wanna feed the pigeons in Kendall Square._

As soon as Rhodey reaches Sam, he wordlessly shows Sam his wrist, where only _James_ is still proudly written there.

“Dude, what.” Sam says flatly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone’s own name on their wrist before… sign you’re going to die alone?”

“Asshole.” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes. “Read any books that might help me out with this?”

“Uh,” Sam says. “I remember skimming a dissertation about soulmate name scarring? Might shed some light on this maybe?”

“What’d it say?”

“I got it stored on my tablet; I’ll open it up once we get to Emma’s, yeah?”

On the way, Rhodey complains about Unified Engineering classes for the most part; it was great, making friends and all, but Rhodey already covered the syllabus a while ago and Tony refused to stop teasing him about Electromagnetic Stan, who figured out how to temporarily manipulate his soulmate scar with, you guessed it, jerry-rigged electromagnets. Admittedly, it was a fascinating discovery and would most likely revolutionize categorizing soulmate biological compositions to come, but for the most part, it was just terrifying.

Sam was adjusting well to Tufts, had maintained his budding friendship with a with a new Lesley University spring admit named Steve Rogers from a year ago, a fine arts student apparently built like a brick shithouse. Rhodey’s looking forward to meeting Steve, until-

“He’s in _Army_ ROTC?” Rhodey says incredulously, when Sam quickly mumbles it. “Please tell me I just heard you wrong. Army ROTC?”   

“Come on, dude. Steve’s alright. He’s majoring in Fine Arts!” Sam tries to brush it off, but Rhodey stops, crosses his arms and gives Sam a pointed look.

“Even though he’s, and I repeat this, Army ROTC.” Rhodey says, skeptically. “You specifically transferred _out_ of Lesley because there wasn’t an Air Corps battalion! Why haven’t you cut your ties yet?”

“Hey, I resent that; I’ll have you know Tufts also has a decent medics program.”

Rhodey stares at him. Raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, ugh god, I know, I know!” Sam finally says, throwing his hands in the air. “Riley’s already given me so much crap about it! I don’t need you getting on my case too! Where’s the solidarity, man?”   

“Nope, two against one, you’re outnumbered. Nice to know some of us still have common sense. Maybe I should’ve called Riley out instead…”

“Low blow Rhodes, low blow.” Sam says, shaking his head, but cracks a smile. “Anyway, you wouldn’t have called Riley, you love me too much.”

“Nah, I only called you because you have an embarrassingly encyclopedic knowledge on soulmate literature.”

“Oh, so that how it is?”

“That’s how it is.”

“Completely heartless. I don’t know how Stark still stays around.”

“Sam, Tony managed to get stuck in the Green Building and single-handedly program the room lights to spell, and I quote, ‘ROODEY HLEP WATS HAPPENGN STARKSTER’ while drunk. He then miraculously appeared a day later, incredibly hung-over on the top of the Great Dome, half finished with a formula that later assisted in solving one of the Millennium Prize Problems. He should be the one grateful that I’m still around.”

“I literally understood about two words of that.” Sam says, shaking his head, “That was the most MIT bullshit I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Anyway. Pizza.”

“Okay, but now you have to explain your friendship with this Steve guy, and then, to gain back my trust over this startlingly upsetting Air Corps betrayal, you also have to tell me what’s up with this soulmate stuff.”

Sam huffs, pushing the door open to Emma’s. They place their orders, Sam ordering a to-go of Pedro’s Guacamole and homemade pita chips for the birds later.

Rhodey’s always been a little bit baffled by the staggering amount of unique and exotic combinations of Emma’s pizzas, but it’s been his and Sam’s tradition to create the most absurd pizza combinations and see who comes out on top.

They order and pay for a ridiculous half-and-half pie, where Sam asks for buffalo chicken and garlicky green olives, and Rhodey hot sausage and dried cranberries, both over gorgonzola and ricotta cheese and a sauce of traditional oregano.

“How are cranberries this sweet? I don’t understand; they’re so small.” Rhodey whines, taking another tortured bite of his slice.

“See, you have to cut the flavor of a heavy topping with a sharper one!” Sam says, very happily eating his half of the pizza. Score to Sam this time.

“Sure. Remember the last time where you just asked for artichoke hearts, scallions, and anchovies? No cheese?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, that was pretty bad-”

“Speaking of bad ideas-“

“-worst segue ever-”

“-Steve. Army ROTC. Friends. Why.”        

“Steve’s a good guy!”

“And yet he’s in Army ROTC! If army cadets and nice guys were options on a Venn diagram, they would be two separate circles!”

“It’s for a good reason! He and his friend, uh, Bucky, I think, joined up together. And they’re kind of inseparable.”

“What kind of name is Bucky?”

“Says Rhodey right here.”

“It’s a nickname! Anyway, you’re supposed to be begging for mercy, not insulting me.” Rhodey says, loftily. “But, you have a point. I will deign to forgive you, for now.”

“Thanks.” Sam says, grinning over a mouthful of pizza.

“So anyway, how’s Tufts’ going for you?” Rhodey says, trying for casual. Okay, he really wanted to know what their Air Corps battalion was planning for the events to come.

“Nope.  Nuh uh.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

Sam shrugs and takes another bite out of his pizza. “Superior officer’ll have my head if I talk about our battalion tactics with a ‘rival’ college.” He waves around his slice. “Technically, us having lunch together is apparently already treason of the highest degree.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Rhodey says, innocently enough. Damn it. “Also, swallow your food before you talk, you animal.”

“Sure.” Sam says, and deliberately chews with an open mouth. “You know that birds regurgitate their food to their young, right.”    

“Ugh, a completely unnecessary image.” Rhodey says, but still determinately grabs another slice of his abysmal pizza combo. “So, this soulmate stuff then?”

“Right, right.” Sam says, smacking his hands together to get the flour dusting off his hands before wiping them off with a napkin. He reaches over into his bag and pulls out his tablet, the back of which is covered in a ridiculous amount of bird stickers. The case features a bedazzled peregrine falcon. Sam notices him staring at the sticker of a fuzzy flamingo. “What? Birds are cool. Riley bought the case for me.”

“So you, a grown ass man, actually went into a store and bought a bunch of bird stickers? Seriously?”

“There is nothing shameful about buying things you love.” Sam says immediately, incredibly earnest. “Anyway, didn’t you want me to help you out on this?” Sam says, cocking his head in a vaguely pigeon-like fashion towards Rhodey’s wrist. “…You thought I looked like a bird just then, didn’t you?”

“Nope!” Rhodey says, “What does it say?”

Sam looks at him in amused exasperation, before flicking through the contents of his tablet. “So, I’m thinking that your soulmate print hasn’t actually finished forming yet.” He says, his hands circling something on the surface before handing the tablet over to Rhodey. “If you look at this paragraph here- it, uh, talks about how some people have gradually forming scars that don’t fully appear until a period of time.”

Rhodey briefly looks at the title of the dissertation: _Romantic Soulmate Name Formation from Adolescence to Adulthood._

“How did you find this?”

“Just read it.”

> “… _The majority of our subjects developed fully formed romantic soulmate imprint(s) between the ages 18-24_ [Graph located in Appendix C: xxi] _. Most of the scarring would appear over a period of a few hours or, in the case of Subject B-24, over a span of minutes_ [Video located in Appendix E: iv] _. However, while the age of the subject, with regards to the initial formation of soulmate name(s), rarely broke away from the bracket of 18-24, 2.3% of our participants did not have full name formations._ [Graph located in Appendix C: xxiv]
> 
> _In these cases, the scarring on these subjects fluctuated between slow formation over months, and as for Subject V-1, years._ [Photo progression located in Appendix E: vii] _”_

“Years?” Rhodey says. His pizza dejectedly flops in his hand. “Could you send this to me so I can weep some more over my life?”  

“Dude, wallowing in your own self-pity, not a good look on you. But, alright.” Sam takes the tablet back from Rhodey and Rhodey hears a telltale swoosh of an email being sent, and a lesser telltale swoosh of a bird flapping its wings and cawing. Sam then flicks through a few more pages. “Well, here’s another part I think you’ll find interesting.” Rhodey skims the next section.

> “… _In the cases of Subjects E-43, B-11, and P-5, the encounter of their soulmate(s) appear to catalyze the biological formation of their respective soulmate scars. One must be brought to attention that their scars had not yet fully formed before they were discovered by their soulmate(s). The comparative study between the pre-encounter growth rate and post-encounter growth rate leads to the conclusion meeting one’s soulmate(s) speeds up the full formation of the scar._ [Comparative Graphs located in Appendix C: xxxi, xxxii, and xxxiii] _The difference of rate of growth cannot be accurately measured due to the small sample size, but the correlation between increase of soulmate name(s) formation and proximity to soulmate(s) seems sound.”_  

Rhodey frowns and double taps on the link, jumping to the graphs in Appendix C. “So I’m supposed to just… wait until I bump into my soulmate, or what? C’mon…”

“Hey, at least your mark is still in English,” Sam says, taking the tablet away from Rhodey to tuck back into his bag. “I read yesterday on Soulmate Shocker’s forums that there was this one poor person in China whose soulmate mark was written in Thai. Dude, can you even imagine?” 

“Soulmate Shocker. Really?” Rhodey says instead. “And as much as I’m grateful about that, we’re stuck in square one.”

“Nah, only you.” Sam says, grinning before proudly showing his wrist. The raised scarring of _Natasha Romanoff_ and _Clint Barton_ stand out starkly against his dark skin _._

“Rude.” Rhodey grumps, but then softens. “Congrats on the marks. Two names, you greedy bastard. How come you didn’t tell me earlier? Don’t tell me I was that much of a dick.”

“Eh, nah, I just wanted to bring it up when there was the, uh, most comedic punch.” Sam says, laughing when Rhodey swats at him petulantly. “Well, at least you know more about your soulmate stuff, anyway? Look on the bright side. At least you aren’t a freak of nature. There are other people who’re in the same place as you are.”

“Yep, I definitely really connect to E-43 super well. It’s _so_ incredible. Who knew data could garner so much empathy? Alright, I’m done. You good?”

“Done with my _absolutely delicious_ pizza.” Sam says, and Rhodey smacks him again, “And aw, c’mon, flyboy, don’t be like that.”

“What is up with all these ridiculous nicknames?” Rhodey mutters to himself, before standing up from his seat. Sam does as well, dusting himself off and grabbing the to-go baggie of pita chips and guacamole.

“So, you going to the Ranger Challenge this weekend?” Sam says as they leave Emma’s, and Rhodey snorts.

“You say it like it’s an option. The Sergeants would slay me if I didn’t. And besides, it’s hosted on MIT’s campus, no way can I make an excuse to skip, so yeah, I’m going. Camaraderie and all that.”

“Well, Steve and Bucky are going to be in the challenge, so maybe I could introduce you to them, afterwards?”

“Might not be the best idea. Won’t be able to take them seriously after watching them wiggle on the ground like the meat-headed army cadets they are.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You really gotta work on that alpha male thing you have.”

“You are completely judging them too.”

“I totally am, aren’t I.” Sam says, sighing.

“No shame, Sam, no shame.” Rhodey says. “See you on Saturday, birdman.”

“And I will take that nickname with respect. Now if you excuse me, I have some hungry pigeons to feed.” Sam says archly, rattling around the pita chips. “Good luck on the soulmate thing!” Rhodey smiles, waving goodbye to Sam’s retreating figure.

“Ugh, this sucks so much.”   

 

* * *

 

Rhodey powers through the Japanese tragi-drama _Wristwatch_ while drinking shitty vodka after his bi-weekly leadership course for Air Corps. It’s the first time he’s had hard liquor or watched a sad Japanese movie in months.

He cries. A lot. And then sends a drunken text message to Tony.

> _whhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyy tnoy whhyyy_
> 
> _u ok there buddy wherere you?_
> 
> _in rm. kinda drnmk. Y R MOVIES SO CREULLLLL_

“Yuki could’ve had it all.” Rhodey sniffs mournfully when Tony comes over to console him with a bottle of vitamin water and some peanutbutter crackers from his lab’s vending machine. “She was so perfect for Eri and Hanako. Why did they fight over her? She didn’t have to die. All they needed to do was to establish boundaries.”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, pomegranate,” Tony says, awkwardly petting him on the shoulder and placing the snack in Rhodey’s lap. “Eat your, uh, your peanut-shaped cracker… thing.”

“I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I?” Rhodey says, sadly holding up his arm, “This is a death sentence.”

“Hey, hey, come on, Rhodey. It’ll be okay. Papa Tony and his network will find your soulmate for you, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“You know how stupid you sound when you call yourself ‘papa’, right.” Rhodey says, hiccupping quietly, munching on his peanutbutter crackers while crying about his disillusioned youth. 

“’Course I do. Only do it to cheer you up, sunshine! God, I am so not made for this. Where’s Pepper when you need her?” Tony frets, thrusting the water bottle into Rhodey’s hands before adjusting his glasses. “So, uh, oh god this is so clichéd, but, what’s up? You haven’t cried over a Japanese film since _Spirited Away_.”  

“You’re doing fine, Tony.” Rhodey says, smiling. “It’s nothing, I guess the soulmate thing is kind of messing me up.”

“Oh shit, shit, was it because I laughed at you about it? I didn’t mean to. Like, it’s still hilarious – ah fuck, I am totally screwing this up, aren’t I-“  

“Tony, relax, you’re fine.”

“Uh, no no no, let me make this up to you.” Tony says, and Rhodey takes a sip of his water. “Look, I’m throwing a party this weekend. After your Ranger… Danger thing, or whatever.”

“Ranger Challenge.”

“Yeah, that! Uh, you know those, er, dickish Harvard Army cadets you hate? They’re totally coming, along with the regular MIT Army scum and, er, now that I think about it, all the people from the Ranger Challenge thing. I think? Anyway, you and Sam can bitch about them and, um, blow off some steam about all of this? Yeah?”

“That would be nice.” Rhodey says.

“Also, I put the James name through on SoulSnatch and got a couple of results; I’ll get a bunch of people named James there too? See if anything happens? Worst comes to worst, at least you’ll get a good lay out of it, right? That is, erm, if you want.”

“Misguided, but appreciated.”

“The Stark way!” Tony says, shooting Rhodey gun fingers.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Tony says. “So, uh, see you Saturday night then.”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck with all your, uh, aerospace engineering stuff…”

“Yeah."

“And, um…”

He and Rhodey sit in silence for a little bit. Tony twiddles his thumb. Rhodey sniffs a little more and drinks another sip of vitamin water.

“You… can go now.”

“Oh thank _God,_ I am so, _so_ bad at this.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rhodey most definitely did not think it was appropriate that he was ogling the Army battalion groups in full uniform.

But it was hard not to stare.

Besides, everyone else was doing it.

“Uuuuugh, why’re they such boneheads? Just look at their butts.” Ye Jin whines, staring holes into Wellesley College Army battalion’s strong, powerful glutes as they duck behind cover. “God. I bet they could crush my head with their thighs. Do you think any of them will share their secrets if I ask? Fellow girl power?”

“They’d probably say something dickish about how the 3rd PT makes all the difference. And then brag about winning world war one. Don’t get sucked into their evil thighs and evil lies, Ye Jin, don’t do it.” Sam says, but his eyes are trained on one of the Wellesley girls, the one shouting orders. Rhodey can see a flash of red hair from under her helmet, and Sam scratches his wrist.     

“Word.” Ye Jin says, “But they’re just so beautiful.”

The warm-up drill finishes for Wellesley, and the next university is up.

“Oh, hey, Lesley University is up next.” Sam says, still occupied with staring at the redhead, who has taken off her helmet and is chatting with her friends. Her hair is impeccable. How. “Uh, I’ll point out Steve and Bucky to you, if I spot them?”

“Sure, if you can tear your eyes away from that girl long enough to notice the other cadets on the field.” Rhodey snorted.

“Shut up, man.”

“Keep this up and you won’t have enough space for your other soulmate. So, you think she’s Natasha?”

“Yeah.” Sam says, slowly. “Dude… it’s… kind of weird.  I mean, I saw her name on the roster and all, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon?”

“Aaaaand for her to be Army ROTC. In your next life, you better be atoning for your sins as an Army _apologist_. How could you do this to the Air Corps, man?”

“Forbidden romance, Rhodes. I’m sure you’ve watched enough soaps to forgive the fact one of my true loves is Army.”

“Fine, fine.” Rhodey says, and the drill siren goes off. Lesley’s Army battalion rushes onto the field. “I doubt you’ll be able to point any of them out, man. They’re just a mess of camouflage. And dickish…ness… _wow_.”

“Damn.” Sam breathes.

“I’m going to the dark side, aren’t I?” Ye Jin says. “Holy crap.”

They were _really fucking good._

The group is led by two leaders. Rhodey can see the smaller one’s scarlet red lips, hear a vaguely British accent lacing her voice during her orders. She's flanked by 6’2 sized man of pure muscle, who's directing the rest of the battalion across the drill’s battlefield.

“That’s Steve.” Sam says.

“He _is_ built-“

“Like a brick shithouse, I know.” Sam completes for him. “Bucky’s normally at the back for support.”

Rhodey snorts, “Tactics, or because he’s useless?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Tactics. He works better with long-range.” He says, scoffing, “Look, over there. He’s the one Steve’s talking to.”

Rhodey scratches his wrist and zones in on the shorter man next to Steve, who gives Steve a quick smile as he clasps him on the shoulder. “That’s Bucky?”

“Yep.”

“Looks like he and Steve are in the wrong bodies.” Rhodey remarks offhandedly. Steve moves carefully, taking into account his entire body with almost hyper-concentration, while Bucky moves brutally and efficiently, yet unconsciously angling his body like a pseudo-shield whenever he’s around Steve. They move incredibly smoothly around each other.

“Well, they’re childhood friends. Bucky’s been watching out for Steve since he was a five foot four shrimp.”

“You mean Bucky defended Steve even when he was the small one? What for?”

“Nope, not Bucky. Steve used to be _tiny._ I have blackmail pics if you’d like to see.”     

“Definitely.” Rhodey says, but he’s still staring at the action unfolding below.

Bucky suddenly flicks his eyes up and his gaze snaps directly with Rhodey’s, so quickly that it seems to have even startled himself, much less Rhodey. If Rhodey wasn’t looking that closely, he wouldn’t have noticed Bucky jerking back, looking away, and blinking in confusion before seamlessly integrating himself back into the battalion group. Weird.  

The group blazes through the record time set by the MIT battalion by over 30 seconds, all through adaptive, complex tactics, brute force only used when necessary. Also, Rhodey would be lying if he said this was through actual observation; he was definitely observing  _something_  alright,but as Sam reliably informs him, butts do not in fact hold the secrets of the universe, even though Bucky's makes him think twice.

“I’m torn between indignation over MIT not winning, and pride over the fact that the Army ROTC totally got their faces beat in.” Rhodey says, once they announce the scores, the other invited battalions standing up and clapping politely at the victors.

“Oh no, conflicting emotions, whatever’re you gonna do?” Sam says, before waving over some people from the Lesley Army battalion. “Behave, I’ll introduce them to you.”

“Hey, Sam!” Steve says, jogging over like a goddamn golden retriever, holy shit, this man was _sunshine_ , “Convinced yet?”

“No way in hell are you taking him away from Air Corps.” Rhodey says easily.

Steve freezes for a moment, awkward, and Rhodey is about to apologize before Steve breaks out into a smile and extends his hand for a handshake. “You must be Rhodey, right?”

“Indeed I am.” Rhodey says, clasping Steve’s hand. Steve’s handshake was firm. Trustworthy, even. Rhodey’s dad would be proud. “That was pretty good stuff out there, Steve. You know, for Army ROTC.”

“Ignore him, he’s territorial.” Sam says. “Though he is right; the only way I’ll be in Army ROTC is if you use my cold, dead body to fortify your trenches, or whatever. Even then, my ghost will haunt you, man, don’t think it won’t.”

“Don’t worry, as soon as I start to think about all those angry ghost crows that’ll probably accompany you in death, there’s no way in heck I’m going to risk it.” Steve says, laughing.

“So much ghost bird poop, Rogers.” Sam threatens.

“So much.” Steve agrees, solemnly.  

“Now, while y’all mingle,” Sergeant Lim’s voice cuts through the bustle of conversation, echoing faintly, “I’d just like to remind y’all the tri-service paintball tourney is in a few weeks. Details will be emailed and posted on our ROTC pages. Let the best battalion win.”

“Army, she means.”  

“Peggy-“ Steve says, brow adorably furrowed. 

“You must’ve misheard her. She said _best_ battalion.” Rhodey says. The woman, Peggy, scoffs, but gives him a playful smile.

“Alright, alright!” Sam cuts in, sporting a grin himself, “ _Everyone_ , this is Rhodey, who is a huge pain in my backside.” Sam says, “Rhodey, this is Peggy, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam makes a sweeping gesture to the rest of the group. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a soulmate to meet.”

“Man, you’re heading into an all-girls Army battalion. You’re _not_ coming back alive. With you dead, I’m just going to be left on my lonesome with these army brutes here!” Rhodey says, aghast, as Steve and Peggy laugh. “Sam, you might have a death wish, but I’m not preparing for a double funeral here. I didn’t know this time would come so soon, but my will is in the drawer-“

“Quit it. The Wellesley girls love me. And besides, these three won’t bite.” Sam says, before stopping and pursing his lips. “Well, except for Peggy. She’ll eat you alive.”

“Excuse me, I take offense to that-“

“Now, don’t be cross, love.” Sam says, in the _worst_ British accent in the _entire history_ of British accents _,_ and winks. Peggy’s face, initially the perfect illusion of indignation, shatters with a giggle.

“What on earth was that?” Peggy says, through her peals of laughter. “Is that you, Mary Poppins?”

“Dude, you’re horrible.” Rhodey says, “Now, go get ‘em. You better pray I’m still alive after this, man.”

Sam grins, giving him a thumbs up, and heads off to the Wellesley group.

“A pleasure, Rhodey.” Peggy says to Rhodey, face still flushed with mirth, holding out her hand for a handshake. “Peggy Carter.”

Rhodey shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you. Also, pissing contest notwithstanding, you were incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such smooth execution of tactics before. And I’m not just saying that to get on your good side.”

“Hm.” Peggy hums, looking up thoughtfully before returning his gaze. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without Steve and Bucky, and it helps when you have a … tight-knit battalion. By your words, does that mean the Air Corps has an issue with cooperation, cadet?” She says, sweetly.

“-outside of Air Corps, I mean.” Rhodey adds, smoothly. “Damn. You are _brutal_.”

“Admittedly, we’re called the Howling Commandoes, so, take from that what you will.” Steve says, laughing. “You should see how she runs drills in the morning. Right, Buck?”

Rhodey turns to Bucky, expecting another friendly quip and a handshake. It takes all of his training not to flinch at the surprising intensity of Bucky’s stare. It was almost aggressive, but Rhodey catches faint bewilderment running through Bucky’s features; the same bewilderment Bucky’s expression had undergone when he was on the battlefield. Though Bucky quickly looks away, the piercing blue of his eyes have already burned themselves into Rhodey’s memory.

“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky says, his eyes instead trailing down the length of Rhodey’s arm before looking back up again, voice unreadable as reaches out his left hand to return Rhodey’s handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet… you… too.” Rhodey says, his voice trailing off as he feels the texture of Bucky’s handshake.

Okay, that sounded _incredibly_ weird, and if Tony was around, he would be laughing right about now.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but-“ Rhodey tilts his head towards Bucky’s arm. “-can I ask about that?”

“You gotta problem with it?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah.” Rhodey says. “Just wondering.”

“Mountain-climbing accident.” Bucky says, simply. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not actually bothered when people ask.”

“He does it to check whether or not he thinks someone’s a good person.” Peggy says, “Don’t quite know how he reasons it through, but it seems you’ve passed.”

“Have I now?” Rhodey says, meaning to be sly, but then Bucky _smiles_ , his eyes crinkling as one corner of his mouth tips up. His bottom lip catches on his teeth and his tongue darts out briefly to wet it. Rhodey’s wrist itches again.

It’s only then when he realizes that he’s still holding hands with Bucky.

Bucky seems to notice at that exact same time as well, and Rhodey can’t help but wince at Bucky’s full body twitch.

“Uh, sorry-“

“Might have some way to go.” Bucky says, and the glorious smile is already gone when he lets go of Rhodey’s hand. It takes Rhodey a minute before realizing Bucky’s comment was to Peggy’s. Bucky’s expression morphs into darker, and his tone is cold when he says, “You got some nerve, y’know, comin’ here first thing and making fun of the army.” 

“Bucky-“

“What, Mister MIT boy over here thinks he’s better than us, life sorted out-“ The beginnings of Rhodey’s placating smile freezes, and he tries his very best not to replace it with a snarl. With that, Rhodey finally snaps out of whatever trance he was in. What the fuck was up with him?   

Rhodey furrows his brow and takes a step towards Bucky. “Hey, look, if you have a problem-“

“I don’t got a goddamn problem!” Bucky shouts, taking an aggressive step forward himself, brushing up against Rhodey’s hand. Rhodey bristles and whips his arm back, crossing it over with the other instead; when had he reached up to touch him, and why the hell had he?

“Bucky, what’s the matter with you?” Steve says, placing a large hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky stills at Steve’s question and takes a deep, shuddery breath, anxiously rubbing his prosthetic arm’s thumb over his right wrist. “C’mon, Buck…”  

Bucky suddenly twists out of Steve’s grip, jostling Steve’s hand out of the way. “You know what, fuck this, I’m going back.” Bucky grumbles, and without a second glance back, he stalks away in long, forceful strides.   

“Bucky!”  

“Leave him.” Peggy says. “It’s his choice.”

At her voice, Steve stops immediately and sighs, long and low. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, concerned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Steve looks over at Rhodey, who is still shell-shocked over the entire situation. “Ah, jeez, Rhodey, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Is he… always like this?”

Steve shakes his head, and genuinely looks like a kicked puppy. “No, never. A bit, uh, defensive at times, sure, but never like this.”

“Bad day?” Rhodey offers.

“Hardly the start of it.” Peggy says, looking at Bucky’s retreating form. “He’s only begun acting up a few days ago, but I genuinely don’t recall anything that could’ve happened to make him so, well, touchy.”

“He’s gonna be okay?” Rhodey asks, and what the hell, Bucky was the one who yelled at _him_ , not the other way around, he shouldn’t care this much. All Rhodey can think about is how inexplicably enduring Bucky was. He scratches at his wrist, again.

“He’ll be fine.” Peggy says, easily enough, “Honestly, knowing Barnes, he’s probably off pouting somewhere and feeling like a right git over blowing up at you.”

“And knowing Bucky, he also won’t apologize for it. He’s too stubborn.”

“Something the two of you have in common.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”

“If the stories Bucky’s told me about you hold any water at all, I’d say yes.” Peggy says, and they share a warm, private smile, before she turns to Rhodey again, who was beginning to feel a bit like a third wheel. “Rhodey, I’m very sorry you were on the receiving end of that. I do hope you’ll be able to forgive him in time, but I wouldn’t blame you if you were to hold it over his head for a while. Steve and I are too soft on him. It would be a nice change of pace if he got what he deserved once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, it’s certainly got me feeling something, alright.” Rhodey says. “It was nice to meet all of you, even though it… didn’t really end like I thought it would.”

“Well, you know army boys. Not known for their mild tempers.” Peggy says, and Rhodey gives a genuine smile at that. He knows a peace offering when he hears one.

“Air corps helps out with the nerves. Flying while angry isn’t… particularly advised.”

“And you air lads have more restraint, do you?”  

“I’m just gonna shut my mouth right here. Learned my lesson the first time.” Rhodey says, backing up and Peggy laughs.

“You’re damn right.” Steve says, and maybe this didn’t end so badly after all. Which reminds him-

“Oh, there’s a party tonight. It’s my friend, Tony’s, uh, Tony Stark’s. I’m pretty sure everyone can go, but I was just wondering if-“

“Tony _Stark_?” Steve all but squeaks, before trying to school his expression into something less flustered. “I mean, uh, yes, we, um, heard about it, we’re… going? But I had no idea… Oh, god, should we?” Steve jumbles out, looking frantically to Peggy for support, who, to her credit, simply smiles beatifically and nods.

“I’d give you directions, but I doubt Tony’s thought it through yet. So… just follow the crowd. Here, I’ll give you my number.” Rhodey says, and they all swap contact details. “Great. And um, make sure Barnes knows he’s welcome, yeah? Bring all your, uh, Howling Commandoes.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Rhodey. We’ll be there.” Peggy says, gently petting Steve, who nods stiffly but otherwise seems to be trying his best to emulate a marble statue. As they walk away, Rhodey sees Steve pushing down the sleeve of his uniform and showing his wrist to Peggy, but before he can think too much about it, his phone pings. Sam.

> _How’d everything go?_
> 
> _Bucky freaked out and stormed off, but otherwise, fine. Is he always like this?_
> 
> _What, really? He’s a bit defensive, but he’s normally pretty calm._
> 
> _That’s what Steve and Peggy said. Anyway, how’d your meet up with soulmate 1 go?_
> 
> _Fantastic. She already found Clint. Apparently really likes archery. Get this, his nickname? Hawkeye._
> 
> _It really is true love. Both of you can freak out about birds. Riley’ll be relieved._
> 
> _Ouch._  
> 
> _Nice to know one of us had a good experience. Tell me more later?_
> 
> _Will do. At the party tonight? Nat and Clint are coming. What about the army brats?_
> 
> _Steve and Peggy, definitely. Don’t know about Bucky._
> 
> _He’ll come around. Talk to you later, gonna spend time getting to know Nat and Clint._
> 
> _Hate you._
> 
> _< /3 Jealous_

Rhodey pockets his phone and starts heading back to the dorms. His wrist doesn’t itch.

 

* * *

 

For all of Tony’s idiosyncrasies, there was no denying he could throw one hell of a party. MIT’s infamous for throwing the best parties in Boston, the bar of which Tony raises each year. Admittedly, the fact that Rhodey’s had about five shots of shitty vodka, one ill-advised shot of shitty tequila, and is currently nursing his third cup of shitty beer, does help the atmosphere considerably. The loud, thumping music of the party’s soundtrack thrums through his veins, and he’s pretty sure every single bass drop culminates in a small-heart attack, but he really doesn’t give a fuck.

He’s watching the best part of any Tony party – Tony verses the entire Alpha Phi Alpha frat (of which Sam belonged to) in beer pong – when he sees Peggy in a stunning red one-piece. There’s a group of guys behind her, and Rhodey momentarily thinks, _holy shit,_ Peggy, before he realizes that they are not, in fact, her harem. They’re probably the, uh, Howling… Commandos, that’s right, Howling Commandos – hah, _commando_ , naked!

… So, uh, Rhodey’s already incredibly loosened up, laughing too hard at things that aren’t even that funny, the arcs of his movements wide and slightly unsteady, and he saunters over to the group, beer sloshing in his red solo cup.      

“Glad you could make it!” Rhodey yells to the group over the music, trying not to slur.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Peggy shouts back, grinning in a way that makes Rhodey realize his attempt at hiding the fact he was completely shitfaced was not at all successful. But her cheeks are flushed, so she’s clearly well on her way to drunk, if not at the very least, tipsy. Steve smiles and waves, but otherwise seems distracted, his eyes searching for something in the dimness of the room. “Rhodey, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the Commandoes.”

Straining to hear against the ridiculous house music remix of _Welcome to the Jungle_ , Rhodey manages to make out the names Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, James Falsworth, and Jacques Dernier. After introductions, the one with the insane handlebar mustache, Dum Dum – hah, like the lollipop! Or, idiot! Man, Rhodey was hilarious – grins. “Don’t suppose you know where I could get a drink first?”

Rhodey stares at his cup for long moment. Where had he gotten this in the first place? “Erm, they’re over…” Rhodey gestures vaguely into the dark. “Somewhere there. I think. I’m not sure. I’m… kinda drunk.” Rhodey says. Understatement of the year. “Feel free to look for yourself, though. Nice to meet everyone, but small talk’ll prob’ly be better when we’re all, uh, sober. Enjoy yourselves!”

“Will do. Come on, boys.” Dum Dum says, leading the march, and with that, most of the Howling Commandos disperse. In the darkness, he can just make out the bulky silhouette of Steve and the lithe one of Peggy from the occasional bursts of multi-colored light.

Bucky didn’t show, then. Rhodey tries not to feel disappointed, but honestly doesn’t know why he would in the first place. 

“Y’sure you two don’t want a drink?”

“Designated driver.” Steve says, shrugging, and Peggy grabs his hand, slumping against his arm as elegantly as one can slump.

“He guilted me into not drinking anymore. Though he knows full well I could drink him and all the Commandos under the table any day and still walk straight enough to please the queen.”

“I did not guilt you into anything!” Steve says, mock affronted. “Didn’t you say it was because you felt bad for me?”

“Because you gave me your puppy dog eyes. You were clearly playing dirty.”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks I have puppy dog eyes, I swear-“

“He’s cultivating that look for something, and I don’t like not knowing.” Peggy says to Rhodey, lowering her voice conspiratorially before smacking Steve’s arm a few times. “Never trust this man.”

“Well, drunk or not,” Rhodey says, then taps his beer cup thoughtfully against his forehead, “though, let’s be real, it’d help if you were a little bit tipsy… Anyway, drunk or not, lemme introduce you to Tony, beer pong’s just started –“

“Beer pong. Really?” Peggy says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, trust me,” Rhodey says, grinning sloppily, “You’re going to want to see this.” The three of them make their way across the room, squeezing through horny college kids awkwardly grinding against each other to the beat of the music.

They reach the more lit-up area, where they’re playing beer pong and flip-cup, just in time to see a ping-pong ball ricochet off a dart stuck into a bullseye of a target and plop neatly into one of the red cups, hear Tony scream, “You just got the fuckin’ _smackdown_ , bitches! Stark, infinite fuckin’ points!” He’s whooping from on top of what looks like six chairs of differing sizes, all precariously stacked up on top of each other. The rest of Alpha Phi Alpha and the crowd around them have just collectively _lost their shit_. Rhodey sees Natasha carrying the cup with the sunken ping-pong ball and hands it with a flourish to Tony, who downs it in one victorious go.

“Well, that’s… certainly impressive.” Peggy says.

“What did I tell ya?” Rhodey says, and Peggy and Steve both look rightfully awestruck.

Tony sees Rhodey approaching and lights up; perched on top of the monstrous piece of modern art that was the chairs, he looks a bit like a confused parakeet. “Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodeeeeey, did you see that? I just made the fuckin’… uh, fuck. Fuck. I can’t get down.” Tony slurs, sticking out his arms like a petulant child, “Rhodeeyyy, carry meeee.”

“I dunno man, I’d say you look pretty okay up there.” Rhodey says, and Tony pouts.

“Noooo, Rhodeyyy, I gotta make another shot after this. I’m thinkin’ of using the vibrations on one of the speakers to bounce, yanno, the um, angles and shit-“ Tony says, and the stack of chairs precariously wobbles, before it starts dangerously tipping to one side.

“I got it!” Steve says, rushing over and probably only meaning to straighten up the chairs, but the stack collapses with a loud clatter before he can.

Oh shit.

Rhodey quickly makes his way through the crowd and comes face to face with Steve awkwardly cradling an armful of a drunken Tony.

“Shit, man, are you okay?” Rhodey says. Tony is groaning in pain, face mooshed up against one of Steve’s biceps.

“Ugh, that was _really_ not smart of me at all. And I’m a fuckin’ genius. Why didn’t you talk me out of it, Rocky Rhodes?” Tony slurs, and Rhodey might be drunk, but not drunk enough to forgive the _terrible_ nickname. Tony suddenly realizes that he is, in actuality, lying on top of someone, and makes his way back to standing. “Ugh, sorry about that dude, I didn’t mean-“ Then Tony puts his hand on Steve’s chest, blinks, replaces his hand, and _squeezes_ , and Rhodey could roll his eyes into space. “Oh well, _hello_ there, big, blond, and buff.”   

“Tony. Stop groping Steve.”

“Excuse you, I did not grope this beautiful, beautiful man,” Tony says to Rhodey, sticking his tongue out, but starts to unwillingly untangle himself from Steve, whose face is definitely not red from the disco lights. “As much as I want to. Though, if Stevie boy here would just give me permission-”

“Steve, this is Tony Stark. Tony, this is Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony.” Steve says, and his expression is neutral, pleasant, but his cheeks are still dusted pink.

“Likewise.” Tony says, smiling.

Rhodey always has this thing where he checks up on Tony periodically in parties, mainly because Tony’s incredibly irresponsible with alcohol. He’s glad to see that Tony seems to be holding up fine. The only sign of his friend’s ridiculous habits and odd hours was the maniac energy of the sleep-deprived, and even then, he could pass that off energy from the party, which is why all he says is “Play nice” before he makes his way over to Sam.

Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “I got it, I got it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhodey sees Steve’s gaze slowly trail over Tony’s arms, and his face, originally flushed with happiness and embarrassment, now twists into confusion.

“Sam!” Rhodey says, pulling him by one arm into a hug. Sam is flanked by two people, the red-head, Natasha, and a guy, probably Clint, dirty blond with hearing aids.

“Rhodey! How’s it going?” Sam says, after their hug, which is more like a flail of limbs.

“Been going alright. Gonna introduce me?”

Sam does, in a mess of exuberant hand gestures to Rhodey and a lot of casual cuddling with his soulmates. They get acquainted, and Rhodey is pleased to say that they get along wonderfully. Natasha is incredibly badass, and, from the stories she’s told about the dual wrath of Melinda May and Maria Hill, Natasha’s Sergeants, so are the rest of the girls in Wellesley. Rhodey is both looking forward to and terrified of when Natasha and Peggy meet and inevitably become the best of friends; throw Pepper into the mix, and the trio could easily conquer the free world.

On the other hand, Clint is an incredible smartass – he’s a runaway from a goddamn circus for Christ’s sake – and Rhodey quickly finds out when Sam and Natasha start making fun of his penchant for befriending stray dogs, if someone starts to say something he doesn’t like, he has absolutely no qualms shutting off his hearing aids until he thinks the coast is clear. “Y’see, Rhodes, no one fucks with a deaf guy.” Clint says, grinning as Natasha flicks at his ear. “I can be as big of an asshole as I like, and no one can say jack shit.”           

Rhodey’s scratching at his wrist when Natasha asks him whether or not he’s waiting for someone (as Clint and Sam have started their own babbling conversation about a future of listening to bird calls early in the morning on the weekend).

“Why?”

She nods at a person over Rhodey’s shoulder while he sips at his beer. “There’s a guy over there - he’s been looking straight at you ever since he came in. Recognize him?”

Rhodey turns around. He’s no longer in his camouflage uniform, but, even in the dark, his blue eyes are unmistakable.

Bucky flinches when Rhodey makes eye contact with him, immediately turning away and slipping back into the crowd without so much as a hello.

“Well, that was… weird.” Natasha says. “Stalker?”

“No, I met him today at the Ranger Challenge…” Rhodey says, trailing off. “Uh, actually, would you excuse me? I need to, um-“

“Go ahead. I gotta reign in the boys anyways. Lucky me, having two soulmates who actually know the difference between pigeon species, right? Make sure they don’t fly away.” Natasha says, waving him off to Bucky’s direction, and Rhodey smiles in appreciation. Rhodey looks into his relatively untouched and still rather full cup of beer before deciding, fuck it, and downs the entire thing. Nothing like a little bit of liquid courage. 

After a few failed attempts at getting Bucky’s attention by shouting out his name – where Rhodey is at least 98% sure Bucky heard the last two –, Rhodey catches up to him and grabs onto his shoulder in a hopefully firm, but also not too intimate, way.

Bucky doesn’t look at Rhodey at all, instead just intensely staring at his feet. His entire body is coiled up and Rhodey can feel the tension of Bucky’s muscles underneath his grip.

“Can we talk? Outside?” Rhodey asks him. Bucky just grunts, still not looking at Rhodey, but allows himself to be lead out of the party and into the spring air.

They walk past a couple of people splayed out on the ground, drunkenly crying on the curb, and as soon as they reach a clearing, Bucky shakes off Rhodey’s hand from his shoulder. Rhodey’s kind of confused as to how his hand got there in the first place. He can see Bucky better now, profile lit up by the street lamps. His eyes trail over Bucky, shirt stretched taut over his muscled chest, the moonlight casting sharp shadows over his collarbones, his defined arms, but he quickly looks back up to Bucky’s face. Why the hell was he blatantly ogling a man he really should be a lot angrier at? Seriously _._ Rhodey blames the alcohol.               

“Sorry, this was a stupid idea-“ Bucky grumbles, rubbing at his wrist and pulling Rhodey out of his daze.

“Okay, look man, you came and found me for a reason, hopefully.” Rhodey says, crossing his arms. “And while I barely know you, I’m kind of hoping you’re going to explain to me why you blew up this afternoon. I’m sorry if I pushed any buttons or something, but you’re going to have to tell me what I did if that’s the case.”

“Not expecting a sorry from me then?” Bucky says, mirroring Rhodey’s stance.

“Well, that would obviously be bad form on your part.” Rhodey says, and Bucky finally cracks a small smile.

“Didn’t think I could make things any worse between us.”

“Eh, might got some way to go.” Rhodey says, and Bucky’s smile widens.

After a beat, Bucky hesitantly says, “Honestly, I wish there was an explanation that sounds less stupid, but, um,” Bucky scratches the back of his neck and gives Rhodey a sheepish look, “I’ve just been having a bad couple of days. I… haven’t really been talking to anyone about it, but, yeah. Um. I guess it… built up. Or whatever.”  

“Yeah, Peggy and Steve told me a little bit about that. I don’t really know you, but, you wanna talk about it?”

Bucky shakes his head, brow furrowed, and for a brief flicker of a second, Rhodey imagines smoothing out those wrinkles with a kiss. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Alright.”

“So, um. Sorry. About the rough start and all.” Bucky says, wincing. It really shouldn’t have been that endearing. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Rhodey says, smiling and extending a hand, “Do over?” Bucky’s eyes skitter over his body – ugh, there was probably a weird stain on his shirt, or twenty – before his eyes settle back onto Rhodey’s.

“Yeah.” Bucky says, taking his hand. This time, it’s with his flesh hand. Rhodey can feel Bucky’s callouses rubbing up against his, his thumb brushing over the thickened skin of Bucky’s knuckles, and Rhodey can imagine him knocking someone out with a mean right hook.

Rhodey… Rhodey is pretty sure this handshake also goes over the appropriate amount of time one should have a handshake, whatever it is, but… uh, okay, alright, he didn’t have an excuse. When they break contact, Rhodey eyes up Bucky’s arm.

“So, can that thing of yours do anything stupid?” Rhodey says, and yep, that’s _definitely_ the alcohol talking here.

Bucky grins. “I can rotate it 360 degrees and pop it right off.”

“Holy shit. Like an action figure?”

“Damn right.”

And then, Bucky _does_ it, waving his _arm,_ his fucking _arm,_ around and posing with it, making these absolutely horrible jokes all the while, and Rhodey laughs so hard he has to lie down on the ground to catch his breath. But once Rhodey thinks his drunken giggling is under control, Bucky reaches over and pets him with his detached arm soothingly, murmuring “shh, shh, it’s okay pal, need a hand?” and Rhodey promptly loses it again.

Bucky is showing Rhodey the benefits of his lightweight arm model (he can and has apparently stored mini candy bars in the thumb) when his voice suddenly goes soft. Rhodey itches at his wrist, and Bucky rolls his flesh wrist over his knee.

“Hey, ah, thanks for not treating me like I’m an… invalid or whatever.” Bucky says, and by the tired and small way he says the word, Rhodey realizes Bucky isn’t speaking in hypotheticals. He looks at Rhodey with such vulnerability, and Rhodey just wants bake him fudge brownies. “But also, yanno, not being afraid of asking about the thing. I hate it when people just try to pretend I’m,” Bucky makes air quotes with his detached arm, “ _normal._ Because, I’m not, I, I’ve lost an arm, and that’s totally fine.” He gives Rhodey an incredibly fragile smile, and something tightens in Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t really even know Bucky, not that much, so instead of pulling him into a hug Rhodey so desperately wants but knows might not be appreciated, he tries his best to make that reserved smile into a careless, full blown grin.

“Yeah, us regular folk will never experience the joys of taking a Hershey’s kiss out of a hollow compartment in our fingers.” Rhodey bemoans, sighing dramatically, and Bucky laughs, smacking him with his arm. “What? I’m serious!”

“You _are_ missing out.” Bucky says idly, shifting to put his arm back into place before turning back to Rhodey. He’s giving Rhodey that same, breathtaking smile, none of that heartbreaking solemnness from before. His lips are curled up contently, cheeks flushed from laughing, and Rhodey wants to touch the dips of the edges of Bucky’s mouth.      

Rhodey pushes the thought away as quickly as it comes, instead saying, “I think you’d get along with Sam’s new soulmates.”

“Would I now?”    

“Yep, especially Clint. He turns his hearing aids off when someone starts talking about things he’s not interested in.”

“What a fucking asshole. I wanna meet him.”  

“Let’s go back, then.” Rhodey says, helping Bucky up. “I’m sure they’re still there. And besides, what’s any event without a grumpy man who can remove his arm as a party trick?        

“You’re treading on thin ice there, Rhodey.” Bucky says, but he hasn’t stopped grinning, so Rhodey counts that as a win.  

They get back, and Rhodey is incredibly glad that the beer pong game isn’t over yet, because he loves introducing people to the wonders of Stark rules trick-shot beer pong. Bucky watches in rapt awe as Sam, Clint, and Natasha sink three ping-pong balls, at the same time, into a singular solo cup. Clint is also perched on Sam’s shoulder, like a majestic hawk, and when a groveling Tony hands them the beer cup, they all drink from it, which Rhodey really shouldn’t have found it as hot as it was.

And if he and Bucky are pressed up against each other a little too closely as they watch Tony prepare for his next shot, he doesn’t say anything.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [If My Heart Was A Compass, You'd Be North](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692875) by [kjstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjstark/pseuds/kjstark)




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